Page 10 of Except You

Recently, whenever I look back at who I’ve been all these years, I hate me too. Wouldn’t want to hang out with me either.

I was pathetic and small and ashamed. I was nothing to be proud of.

That’s so damn gay.

Get a room, you ass eater!

“Hey! Sorry, parking was a nightmare,” Beau says, appearing next to me, his cheeks pink, the sweater he’s wearing falling off one of his slim shoulders. He looks so damn… I swallow that word back and offer him a small smile.

“Yeah, it’s fine. No problem. I just got here.”

“Oh, perfect. God, but just so you know, I’m usually late. Like perpetually. In all things. Can’t even come on time.” He winks and lets out a small laugh, and I can’t help but smile back at him.

I’m getting the hang of all this gay talk. I totally am. It doesn’t shock me as much as it did a week ago. This is good progress. I will be totally fine listening to Magnus chatter about his life. I’ll be an adult about it.

“Anyways, did you put our name in? Oh wait, you said you just got here, duh.”

He links his arm through mine and pulls me inside the restaurant. It’s an open-concept room with tables all around and beach-themed pictures lining the walls. I’m not totally sure what they serve here, but I could eat pretty much anything.

“Two please,” Beau says, and the young hostess looks at us with hearts in her eyes, almost cooing at us. I shift on my feet, wanting to clarify that we’re not together, but biting my tongue. It doesn’t matter. That’s not what today is about. Today is about learning more, about being more.

I can bite my fucking tongue. People can think what they want.

Anyone who’s with Beau should be proud. And I can do that, even if it’s just pretend.

“God, so listen, this place has the best drinks. Like, so fun and beachy,” Beau says as we take a seat. He winces as his ass hits the chair and then peers up at me, almost shyly.

“You okay?” I ask, and he nods, biting his plump bottom lip.

“Just had a bit of a rough night…with a rough dick.”

Understanding pulses through me, and I feel my cheeks heat.

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ah is one word for it. I, however, am suffering the consequences, and it wasn’t even that good.”

“Greg was a real loser then?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I don’t want to think about Beau getting railed, and I’m not sure if it’s because I feel oddly protective of him or because I don’t want to conjure up the image of what that would entail.

I’m not sure I like either answer.

“Yeah, the loser of all losers. What a waste. But anyways, back to the drinks. Do you like fruit? Because I can recommend quite a few that you’d love.”

“Yeah, I could do fruit.”

“And appetizers? You game to try what I recommend?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He waggles his eyebrows and then taps his lips. “Oh, Max, I’m gonna blow your mind.”

We stumble along the boardwalk toward the beach, the slightly chilly, late-winter air nipping at our exposed skin. Beau has his sweater tucked around him, his hands pulled into his sleeves, a knit beanie on his head.

I have a denim jacket on and my ball cap pulled over my head. The two of us look like nothing more than friends. Although, Beau is leaning heavily into me and his head occasionally meets my shoulder.

“I think I had too many fruity drinks. They’re potent.”

“Yeah, seems so,” I say with a laugh. I probably had too many as well, but they made me relax, made me a bit more comfortable. Our bill was high, but the way I feel right now, like nothing can touch me, makes it worth it.

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